Life has taken a sudden and unexpected turn. For both of us. Just a few weeks ago neither of us would have had anything to do with each other but now we can’t imagine life without one another. She was snatched from the jaws of death and I was the only person available to follow through.

I have become “dad” to a baby Mynah. We’ve named her Lele – which is a Hawaiian word for both fly and jump. Both meanings apply.

It was about 3 weeks ago that my roommate, as he often does before anyone else is up, was enjoying the morning quiet of the back yard and noticed a commotion at the base of one of the coconut trees. One of the cats was hunting something. If it was a Coqui frog or a rat then so much the better. But it wasn’t. It was a baby Mynah. She (we’ll call it a “she” but there really isn’t any way to tell) was doing well for herself fending off our hunter cat, Kolu, with beak and claw while struggling as best she could towards the cover of the Lilikoi bushes. The tangle of Lilikoi vines almost protected her from Kolu but not quite enough. He caught her and had her in his mouth.

My roommate intervened. That coconut tree is a good 40 feet or more so the little bird not only almost fended off a full grown cat but survived quite a fall. He decided that she deserved a chance to live and, quite literally, pried her from the jaws of death. At first he put her deep into the tangled brush but Tutu, the nearly feral mother cat, had taken notice and was plotting her way through the morass to her prey. And she’s a most adept hunter so she’d succeed. Back up into the tree she went only this time her “nest” was a cardboard box filled with shredded newspaper nailed about 8 feet up the trunk. Perhaps her parents would take care of her there since she was too big for them to haul back up to the nest.

No such luck. The parents were too busy taking care of their other 2 fledglings. Eventually she made the choice for them and jumped out of the box. Fortunately I was awake by then as both roommates needed to head to the airport for a week away on business. Over my morning coffee and the puzzled squawks of a very confused young bird we discussed her fate. Let the cats have her? Hope the parents would take care of her (which was very likely to be the same as the first option)? Or would I take care of her until she was either a healthy wild bird or a healthy pet bird?

We decided that she was already dead when the cat almost got her so any other outcome was a bonus. We talked of taking her to a bird shelter and that, of course, was the proper thing to do.

You have to understand a few things about Mynahs though. First, most reasonable people consider them a pest. They’re an invasive species introduced in the 1800′s and have since contributed to the decline of many, many native Hawaiian birds. They are aggressive, eat the eggs of other birds and can be quite noisy. Second, they are very intelligent, can learn to be fantastic mimics and make wonderful, loving pets if they imprint on humans early enough. Lele, who had about half of her fledgling feathers, was either at that age or just past it. She might make a fantastic pet, she might fly away as soon as she could… but either way the bird shelters really didn’t need another precocious, nasty Mynah fledgling to take care of. No, come what may her fate would be in our hands.

My roommate, being an animal trainer, knew how to care for birds quite well and, being a Hawaiian, knew how to care for a Mynah. After 15 minutes of  “do this!’ and “don’t do that!” and “How you are with her in the next 48 hours is hugely important!” he and his wife left with a final “good luck!” I was alone with a terrified little bird who was huddled in the corner of a half closed box.

I, it must be stated quite clearly, am NOT an animal trainer. My brother had a parakeet when I was young so I have some sense of what it means to be a bird owner… but I was more than a little intimidated by the half-feathered fluff ball in that box. Sure, the cats would have already killed her but having her die while under my care would be a very different feeling. So I did what any nervous and modern new parent would do: I googled it.

Ok, no seeds. Mynahs can’t eat seeds. Ah, no breads either. And nothing with iron in it: it builds up in their system and kills them. Rescued birds are frequently dehydrated, right, I knew that already. Hmmm… don’t give them water directly as they can inhale it. They get their water from their food at that age. Ok. Papaya it is. We have a couple ripe ones that we don’t eat for a variety of reasons but they’d be perfect for her. Soft, easy to digest and has lots of water.

I pulled down a ripe one, cut a side off and sliced a piece thin enough that I thought she could eat it. Just how big a bite does a baby Mynah take, anyway? What happens if I accidentally give her too big a bite? Will she choke on it and die? I cut the thin slide in half again and slightly crushed it with the flat of the knife. There. A nice partially chewed, soggy, sugary fruit breakfast for our fine, if partially, feathered friend.

How cute! When I opened the box and reached in with the food she started begging! Mouth wide open and making all kinds of noise. I stuck the food far back into her open mouth and all noise ceased before the urgency of swallowing. Gulp! She swallowed a few times and shook her head a little. Then she looked up at my hand, then me, and opened that mouth wide open again. No noise this time though – just a big mouth waiting for more food. In went the second half of the papaya slice. So far, so good.

She ate a bit more papaya, pooped and huddled back into her corner. Ok. I guessed she was full. That wasn’t too bad. No signs of dying of mistreatment yet but it had only been about 45 minutes since my roommates left at that point. She seemed to be trying to sleep but she didn’t look very comfortable. What makes for a comfy bird box? Why, shredded newspaper of course! Shredded newspaper makes any animal dwelling cozy, right? So I shredded some newspaper and made a nice nest for her. She largely ignored it but at least it gave her a little insulation and made this nervous “dad” feel like he was doing something for her.

That was the other thing with young birds. You have to keep them warm. Without all their feathers they get cold easily and spend all their food energy keeping warm instead of growing. And if they are too cold that energy gets used up and they die. Hawaii is warm… but is it warm enough? How cool is cold for a little Mynah bird? Suddenly every slight breeze made me shiver. OK, then. I closed her box most of the way so she’d relax in the darkness and covered the box with a thin towel. There. All cozy for a nice nap. Sleep well little Mynah! The next meal will be in two hours.

2 hours later I uncovered and opened the box to find a terrified little Mynah huddled face first into a corner. She didn’t beg for food when I brought some over. Instead she huddled more into the corner and started making “I’m mean! Stay back!” noises. Oh. She wasn’t begging the first time. She was threatening me and it just happened to involve an open mouth into which food was shoved. This time she was just yelling at me with no open mouth. Hmmm. I gently reached in and scooped her away from the corner. “That’s it, buddy,” she screamed at me, “now you get the Big Threatening Beak!!!” Gulp!

She shook her head a little. Looked at the next bit of food in my hand. Looked at me. Then she figured it out and opened her mouth wide for more food. After several more bites she pooped and retreated to her shredded newspaper corner to huddle in terror until she fell asleep.

So far, uh, so good. I think. She was alive and I had figured out a way to feed and hydrate her. But was living in terror in a box, even a fancy one with shredded newspaper and everything, really a life worth living? I wasn’t sure. I don’t think she was either. So we carried on for a couple days like that: me feeding her because I didn’t know what else to do and she eating because she didn’t either. Each meal was like Groundhog Day: it took her a bite to remember that I was feeding her and not getting ready to eat her. Then after she was full she’d get as far from me as she could. Perhaps she was too old to imprint on humans. If so she had a long few weeks filled with fear before she was grown enough to fly and feed herself. And I didn’t relish the idea of being the agent of stress and discomfort for her but the only other option at the moment was to let the cats have her.

So we carried on. But after 2 days of cringing and corner huddling I had finally had enough.

(To be continued…)